


Slip-Sliding In

by ellia



Category: Being Human
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-21
Updated: 2010-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellia/pseuds/ellia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George always wanted normal, wanted the wolf to be gone. But he can't help but think that if he was ever freed of his curse, he might lose the one thing that makes him happy. (pilot canon and characterisation)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip-Sliding In

George's comes slowly awake, a quick glance at the clock shows he's got a few hours before sunset. Before he needs to lock himself away, caging the wolf so it can't act out any of George's nightmares.

   
   


The room reeks of sex, and he's got a naked vampire wrapped around his body. It feels so right, having Mitchell there with him. Holding on tight, like George is the most important thing in his world. It feels right, but George can't help thinking that he should be bothered by it. When exactly did this become his normal?

   
   


George's life had all been planned out before the wolf. He'd never had big dreams, never wanted to change the world. He'd seen himself with a wife, maybe a family, a safe career. Nothing special, he wasn't the type to stand out, he'd had average hopes for an average life.

   
   


He still misses those dreams, yearns for a normality that is forever lost to him. But he knows that in his perfect, _normal_ world he'd never have Mitchell.

   
   


Mitchell doesn't fit in that normal world, and that has as much to do with the man, as it does his vampiric nature. He is smart; and not George's high IQ, nerdy smart. Mitchell is life smart, people smart in ways that George could never copy.

   
   


He was that cool kid from school. That one who hung out behind the bike-sheds, fag hanging from his mouth, some ridiculously obscure book in his hands. The type that never cared about fitting in, or acting normal, but wound up being popular anyway. His disdain draws people to him, even as surely as he pushes them away.

   
   


They want to be his friend, his lover, and it seems to George that Mitchell could have anyone he wanted. When people describe Mitchell they use words like, mysterious, dangerous, sexy, enigmatic, even his sarcastic nature is seen as a plus. George doesn't get words like that; he's safe, dependable, bumbling, even cute and cuddly.

   
   


Women might say that they want nice, but he's always known that men like Mitchell get the girl, whilst he's the type that ends up as a friend. Julia was his shot at happy ever after. The girl next door, the one person who had always been there, his perfect match; the one he'd run from. She'd wanted normal, almost as much as he had, and the wolf meant he'd had to let her go.

   
   


Mitchell slides into places like he belongs; he slides into rooms, conversations, lives, makes himself at home. Always there, always watching, but never really a part of things. He slid into George's life, so effortlessly. Made himself necessary before George even realised he was there.

   
   


From that first night, more than two years ago now, when he dragged George's naked and bloody body home after his first change, Mitchell sort of took over and George had never figured out how to stop him. If he was honest with himself, he really didn't want to.

   
   


In those early days, Mitchell had kept him alive, kept him sane. Dragged him kicking and screaming back into the world; when all George wanted to do was hide. He'd kept George human, not a bad feat for a man who hadn't been human himself for over a century.

   
   


Mitchell had forced George to face what he'd become, without forcing him to lose touch with the man he'd always been. Together they'd found a way to live like ordinary people, found a way to make a place for themselves in the human world.

   
   


In those early days, Mitchell had still had Lauren in his life. When George had seen them together, they'd seemed to fit just right. She'd been beautiful and smart, impressed with Mitchell, without being overawed by him.

   
   


She hadn't known the truth though, and as much as George had felt intimidated by her; he'd revelled in the fact that there was a part of Mitchell she could never touch. That he'd found a home in the hidden parts of Mitchell's world, a place that she would never be allowed to see.

   
   


He knows that Mitchell was responsible for her death. Not that the other man had told him anything about that night. But he'd seen the way Mitchell changed afterwards. How he'd withdrawn even further from the people around them. He'd never ask, never push Mitchell for an answer, and he's fairly certain that his friend won't be playing true confessions any time soon.

   
   


They didn't do this back then. Didn't reach for each other on nights when normal becomes too hard. He tries not to think it's because of his wolf. Tries to convince him self, that Mitchell would have come to want him anyway. That they would have found a way to fit, even if he'd still been just a human instead of another monster.

   
   


Mitchell's waking up now, George can feel the shift in the room. The presence of another predator, if his wolf's good for anything, it's this. His senses become so sharp around the full moon, which means there're at least a few days in every month when Mitchell can't sneak up on him.

   
   


He's feeling too lazy to move, or talk, wants to just lie there and let Mitchell take control. There are strong hands gripping his hips, a hard cock pressed against his thigh. One hand slips lower, and he feels the sudden, sweet burn of two fingers slipping into him. Twist, flex, rub, Mitchell plays his body like they've been doing this for years. Knows exactly how to get George so turned on he'll beg for more.

   
   


It's become a game for Mitchell, trying to get him to scream. Since they acquired their new roommate, George has tried so hard to be quieter. He hates the thought of Annie hearing him like this, knows that she'll like as not make some sarcastic comment, designed to make him blush. He wonders if she was always this blunt, or if perhaps death has swept away her need to conform to social expectations.

   
   


"Shit!" Sharp pain in his thigh, and George knows that if he looks down, Mitchell's eyes will be black, and he'll be licking traces of blood from his fangs.

   
   


"You know if you're not going to pay attention, it's entirely possible that you're going to hurt my feelings." Mitchell's voice is a teasing growl against George's skin. And his hands shift back to George's hips, anchoring him in place.

   
   


"You have feelings?" This time it's sharp nails raking across his stomach. He's no match for Mitchell's strength, however much he wants to twist away from the pain, he knows he can't.

   
   


"I have lots of feelings……..hunger…...desire.…..lust." Mitchell punctuates each word with a new bite; tiny pinpricks that just break the skin.

   
   


"Fucking bastard!" Mitchell's sucking at the wounds, lapping up the blood. Little teasing touches, that he knows George can't resist.

   
   


"Want something?" Mitchell moves slowly, nibbling his way up George's body. Most of the time he won't do this, won't scratch and bite and feed. He's so careful of George's too fragile human body. But tonight George will shift, and they both know that all the marks will be gone with the dawn.

   
   


"Want you to stop teasing, and just fuck me already." Mitchell did this too, made George into the kind of man who's not afraid to ask for what he needs. At least here in their bed he's fearless, it might take a little longer for him to feel that way the rest of the time. George is relieved, that this time he isn't going to be teased into begging. He can feel Mitchell sliding into his body, hard cock filling him, inch by inch.

   
   


"Please." Mitchell's stopped moving again, he's balls deep in George's arse, but it isn't quite enough, not for either of them. Mitchell's fangs are resting against his neck, waiting for him to give permission. This one thing Mitchell won't take, not unless George offers.

   
   


"Do it."

   
   


Permission granted, Mitchell moves so fast that George can barely keep up. He's being fucked, hard and fast, Mitchell's cock dragging over his prostate with every thrust. But as good as that feels, it's the bite that makes him fall apart. The way Mitchell's fangs just slide into his throat. That wonderful pulsing burn in his neck, that means he's made Mitchell lose just a small bit of his self-control.

   
   


There's blood and pain, and sex, and above all else need. It's everything George never knew he wanted. He's pretty sure he screams, and he knows there's begging at some point. But it doesn't matter that Annie hears him, as loud as he is half the street probably hears, but he'll worry about that later. Right now the only thing that matters is his desperate need, and the way Mitchell feels inside him.

   
   


Just as he thinks he can't take any more, Mitchell pulls back, for a second George sees jet black eyes and bloody fangs. But then there are lips pressed hard against his own, and Mitchell's hips are losing that perfect rhythm. There are kisses and more bites, blood in both their mouths, and then Mitchell's growling out his release. George needs more, but before he can reach for his own cock, Mitchell's hand is there. He isn't gentle, rough hands rubbing hard over too sensitive skin, and it only takes a couple of strokes for George to follow him over the edge.

   
   


George comes slowly awake. A quick glance at the clock shows he's got around half an hour before he needs to get up and head for his new hiding place. After all, there's not much point in him showering until he changes back in the morning.

   
   


He and the room reek of sex, there's still a naked vampire wrapped around his body. If he goes downstairs, he's pretty sure the kitchen counters will be covered in cups of tea. Annie will be there, waiting, with a knowing look in her eyes and a snarky comment on her lips. It doesn't even come close to being normal. But it's his life, and he's going to enjoy it whilst it lasts.

   
   



End file.
